I've got a lovely bunch of oneshots
by thoraxe357
Summary: there they are, a standin in a row...Serious ones, stupid ass ones, some where I was on crack...Give 'em a click, review 'em a tick...Praise or call me a hack.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer! For this and all of my other stories... I OWN NOTHING!**

Now that thats out of th way... a little backround. These are just a bunch of random ideas that pop into my head. Some might be funny, some might be sad, and some might be fucking retarded. OS sit back and enjoy...


	2. Chapter 2

**Coconuts**

The order of the phoenix was in chaos. The chosen one, the boy-who-lived, the savior of the wizarding world had vanished!

Not long after returning to number four privet drive after his sixth year at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry, the raven-haired young man had left his family's home. A massive search was in effect and was so far fruitless. The entirety of the British isles was being covered, but the boy could not be found.

The headquarters of the vigilante group was shrouded in a tense atmosphere as the front door opened and the very subject of the tension entered with a big grin plastered across his face. Humming to himself, Harry made his way into the kitchen where, unnoticed by those present, he opened the fridge to grab a butterbeer and sat at the table.

"What's going on?" he asked casually, grabbing everyone's attention, and was immediately set upon.

"Where have you been?!" yelled Mrs. Weasley.

"Huh?"

"We were informed that you left the Dursleys' not long after you arrived." stated Remus Lupin, only slightly calmer than the Weasley matriarch.

"Oh... yeah. Well, after Dumbledore's death and what not, I didn't really feel like staying there 'till my birthday, so I left."

"Then where the bloody hell have you been?" demanded his friend, Ron.

"Well, I was gonna take the Knight Bus to this street, but I felt like walking for a while. Of course, I didn't know the way here, so I picked a direction."

"Then how did you find your way?" asked Harry's girlfriend, Hermione Granger, still teary-eyed at the supposed loss of the man she loved.

"Oh! I eventually summoned the Knight Bus."

"You've been missing for hours! Where were you when you summoned the the bus?"

"Well..." Harry started with a sly grin as music sounded from nowhere, causing everyone else to look around in surprise and disbelief.

Down at an English fair,

this evening I was there,

when I heard a showman shout from underneath the flare.

Harry Jumped up from his seat and leaped onto the table. He pulled a big black top hat and a cane from nowhere. The rest of those in attendance blinked simultaneously and saw that he was wearing a coat and tails as their eyes.

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts,

there they are a standin' in a row.

Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head.

Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist.

That's what the showman said!

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts,

every one you throw will make me rich.

There stands me wife, the idol of me life,

singing...

Harry gestured at Hermione, who was compelled to join in.

Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch.

Suddenly, everyone around the table was forced to sing as well.

Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch!

Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch!

They quieted and Harry continued, rolling his r's.

Rrrrolll a bowl a ball!

Rrrroll a bowl a ball!

Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch!

The music flared as the entire crowd, led by Harry left the hose in a chorus line. The flooded the street, ignorant to the sudden appearance of every single death eater and Voldemort himself, who was inexplicably carrying every single one of his horcruxes.

The dark forces felt compelled to join the chorus line and Voldemort stepped to Harry's side, who turned to the dancing crowd and raised his arms ready to conduct. As he started waving his hands, the entire group began to sing.

I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts.

Harry interjected with a high pitched "They're Lovely!"

There they are a standin' in a row.

Harry again cut in with "1 2 3 4!"

Big ones, small one, some as big as your head.

"And Bigger!"

Give 'em a twist, a flick of the wrist,

that's what the showman said.

The crowd backed off to allow Harry to continue.

Now, but I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts.

The people sounded with an enthusiastic "La da da daaaa da!"

Every ball you throw will make me rich.

The two dancing organizations replied "Have a banaaaaaaana!"

There stands me wife, the idol of me life,

singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pinch.

Aaaall together, now!

The crowd joined back in.

Singing roll a bow a ball a penny a **pitch**!

"Harmonyyy!"

Singing **roll** a bow a ball a penny a **pitch**!

Harry was once again left alone.

Rrrroll a bowl a ball!

Rrrroll a bowl a ball!

Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Voldemort and his horcruxes, including the piece of his soul stored within Harry's scar, flew in to the air where they promptly exploded. Multicolor showers of sparks filled the starry sky, illuminating the still dancing crowd and Harry who was still holding his note.

iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch!

The music continued as the aurors arrived to arrest every single death eater.

And thus, Lord Voldemort was defeated. Not by love, as theorized by the late Albus Dumbledore, but by the power of music.


	3. Chapter 3

**Rest in peace**

"You die today, Potter!" yelled Lord Voldemort as he sent another green streak of light towards his nemesis.

The lean, raven-haired youth known as Harry Potter rolled to the side for the umpteenth time. The dark lord had decided to attack Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry on Halloween. The school had just sat down for the Halloween feast when explosions rocked the castle.

Harry had immediately sprung from the table and rushed outside, followed by all those over fifth year and most of the teachers. The battle had begun in earnest as auroras and members of the auroras of the vigilante group, the Order of the Phoenix, arrived.

It hadn't taken Harry long to locate and engage Voldemort. Spells were traded at blinding speeds as the two unleashed everything they had. It soon became clear that the dark lord and the boy-who-lived were too evenly matched. That is until Harry struck in the back by a stray cruciartus curse.

Smiling his manic smile, Voldemort cockily approached his downed foe. He relished the feeling as he raised his wand, the tip glowing the vivid green of the killing curse.

"It appears as though your time has finally come, Harry. For years you've managed to evade me, but no more. Goodbye..."

Voldemort's monologue was cut mercifully short as the Hogwarts grounds fell into a deep purple light. Fog began to fill the battlefield as a deep, ringing church bell tolled.

"What is this illusion?!" demanded the dark lord as the customary funeral march began.

"Tom... Marvollo... Riddle..." the deep, hollow voice resonated across the grounds, sending ice up everybody's spine. The source of the horrifying tones remained a mystery within the fog-shrouded battlefield as a look of sheer panic crossed the snake-like face of Voldemort.

"For too long have you walked the earth, bringing pain and death to a countless number. Your sins have caught up to you, Tom." the voice said with a smiling tone.

"I do not know who are, but I am Lord Voldemort. Your pathetic tricks do nothing but anger me. Show yourself so that I may destroy you!"

A deep, soul-rattling laugh rolled across the silent combatants.

"Tom, you can threaten and prostrate all you want. Just know that I will leave this place with what I came for...your **SOUL**!!"

The final word echoed as a figure approached Riddle from behind. A man standing over six feet, wearing a black leather coat that reached his feet and a wide-brimmed hat appeared through the fog. Riddle whipped around to find an impossibly pale face shrouded in the hat's shadow and thick beard on the chin. Red eyes widened in petrifying fear as the man's hands slowly reached up to his hat.

He gripped the front and back of the wide hat, bringing it up off of his head and down in front of his face. As it passed, the eyes were revealed, ghostly white and heavily veined.

Dropping the hat, which promptly vanished, the stranger focused his pupil-less eyes on the dark lord. A large hand raised and latched onto Riddle's pale throat.

A scream tore from the would-be conqueror's mouth. It washed over the grounds in waves, a sonic battery of true agony. Tears streamed from the slitted red eyes as vocal chords were slowly disintegrated. Another scream ripped through the ranks of fighters as Harry Potter fell to his knees.

The famous lightning bolt scar adorning his brow unleashed a piercing white light. As his tears and yell reached a crescendo, a ball of dark energy formed in front of his head. Words of pain flowed from his mouth in a hissing that shattered the hearts of all those watching. Tears escaped the eyes of light and dark warriors alike as they all cried for the pain that this child, who was never able to be a child, was continually subjected to.

The orb of sickly dark energy shot forth, only to burrow into the still writhing dark lord. Finally free of the burden, Harry collapsed in to a pain-wracked fetal position.

Four more piercing shouts sounded over the field, drawing the attention to the horizon. All eyes watched the skies as four more orbs hurtled to the body still held in the powerful grip of the stranger.

After the last impacted with Riddle's for, the man tensed. Voldemort was hauled three feet into the air, still howling in agony. With a grim smile, the dark lord was brought down. The sickening crunch of flesh, bone, muscle and cartilage was heard by all as the screaming villain was grounded, hard. All present witnessed, with a wince, the powerful hand of the man burrow through Riddle's throat and into the dirt.

The ground was slowly saturated with the dark, coagulated blood of the once feared dark lord as his eyes dimmed for the final time.

Looking down at the cooling corpse, the stranger uttered three words before vanishing in a flash of lightning.

"Rest... in... piece."

As the glare from the departure faded, every one of Riddle's followers fell to their knees. None of them had ever truly realized how evil their master was. Every masked face turned to the raven-haired boy held, shaking and sobbing, in the arms of a bushy-haired brunette who was crying for her friend and love. Never had the dark followers known of the pain inflicted on this poor orphan, chosen by fate.

No one resisted as they were shackled, tried, and handed over to the tender mercies of the soul-sucking guards of Azkaban. For the rest of their natural lives, the only image witnessed by their joyless minds was that of a boy reduced to a little ball of pain and sadness.

--oo00LBOS00oo--

It took Harry three weeks to recover from the loss of the piece of Riddle's soul. When he finally awoke, it was to be blessed with the face and bushy brunette hair of his true love and a soul free of the dark lord's taint.

Returning to the public eye, Harry was shocked to find no hero worship or praise. All he found was the understanding he'd wanted his entire life. Nods of acceptance were met with nods of his own. No crazed fan girls flocked to him. No males glared at him with envy. He was welcomed back to good health and then left to his own.

Looking into the happily tearing eyes of his love, Harry was finally able to let everything go. Tears, held back for years, were unleashed as he pulled her against him. Tears for his lost parents. Tears for his lost childhood. Tears for the innocence he was never allowed to know. Tears for the life he was now blessed with. Tears for the love he finally allowed himself to completely feel, free of fear. Tears of happiness at his newfound freedom. All were shed in that instant as the two lovers held each other in front of everyone's gaze. The crowd bore witness as a soul that had been tortured all of its existence was finally let loose to the surrounded world.

Harry Potter could now, and forever, live the life all of Earth's children were entitled to. He could finally live in peace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Big Blue Dress**

Another explosion tore the ground out from Harry, sending him flying over a nearby boulder. Landing beside his girlfriend, he rolled up and placed his back against the rock.

"All I wanted was one fucking picnic with my girlfriend. You know...some sandwiches, a salad, some pumpkin juice and maybe a little 'pie'. Was that too much to ask for?"

More explosions on the other side of the boulder was his answer. He risked a look over their protection and saw around twenty death eaters steadily approaching. Suddenly, a girlish giggling sounded from his left. He turned to see the love of his life laughing her head off while pointing at him.

"Hermione! What's so fucking funny?!" She just continued to laugh and point, which caused him to look down and gasp. Apparently the explosion that had sent him flying...had also divested him of his robe. All that remained were tatters hanging from the neckline.

"Damn hormones! Figures that today, the day where I didn't wear anything else in anticipation, would be the day my robe was shredded."

Hermione continued to laugh as Harry sent spell after spell over the rock, waiting for her to calm down enough to conjure another robe.

"Wish I was better at that." he mumbled angrily.

Eventually, Hermione was able to concentrate through her laughter and performed the spell, only to fall down in laughter again. Harry looked down and scowled. He was wearing a robe of the brightest robin's-egg blue he'd ever seen. Enraged at his luck, he leaped up, only to find himself thirty feet in the air. Still pissed, he clenched his fists as the horde of death eaters burst out in laughter.

As Harry began to descend, an intense guitar riff sounded from no where and his hands erupted into flames. The laughter turned into screams of pain as a fireball flew from his hand and impacted within the evil wizards' midst.

_I've been kickin' ass_

_since the dawn of time._

_I'm just a killing man _

_who's reached his killing prime._

_I burn and I plunder_

_as it suits my desire._

_The weapon of my choice_

_is great balls of fire._

Another fireball flew into the death eater ranks, instantly ashing everyone it touched. The music flared as he turned to Hermione, who was still hiding behind the boulder.

_So 'why' I ask_

_It doesn't make much sense!_

_That a man of my stature_

_should have to wear a dress._

_What, may I inquire,_

_were you thinking on that day,_

_When you conjured up, for a man like me,_

_a robe that looks so gaaay!_

The screams of agony and fear of the evil horde seem to meld together into a harmonious tune in time with the music. Unknown to everybody, Voldemort himself arrived to see his minions scattering and Potter glowing with an enraged fire. He was shocked still as the boy locked gazes with him.

_I was taught my craft_

_at the dawn of pain._

_You may not like my methods,_

_but you'll surely know my name._

_Just think in**cen**diary **thoughts**_

_and my **hands** burst into flames._

_A few moments later and you'll never be the same._

_So 'Why' I ask_

_It doesn't make much sense!_

_That a man of my stature_

_should have to wear a dress._

_What, may I inquire,_

_were you thinking on that day,_

_When you conjured up, for a man like me,_

_a robe that looks so gaaay!_

Seeing his army decimated by Potter's flames, Voldemort saw his end. He knew that nothing he could do would ever stand against the boy's unleashed anger. His only conceivable plan was to capture the mudblood, Granger, whom his enemy seemed to be enamored with, if a bit angry, with. However, if the raven-haired youth was pissed enough to destroy an entire army, just because he was forced to wear those robes, what would he do if his love was kidnapped?

Riddle, knowing the truth, dropped his head, only to have a strong hand grip his chin. His head was raised to peer into the mirthful eyes of the chosen one.

_So, if you're embarrassed, _

_and you hang your head in shame._

_Like an opportunity to redeem your worthy name?_

_Just remember this,_

_when next you look to kill._

_That a man who's truly skilled_

_can look quite good in twill._

Voldemort screamed as his body burst into flame. He writhed in agony as the fire slowly turned him to ash. Harry walked off, leaving the crackling yule log that was Tom Riddle and approached his girlfriend.

_'Why' I ask_

_It doesn't make much sense!_

_That a man of my stature_

_should have to wear a dress._

_What, may I inquire,_

_were you thinking on that day,_

_When you conjured up, for a man like me,_

_a robe that looks so gaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!_

As the music died away and Harry's note ended, he surveyed the damage. Turning his eyes back to Hermione, he smirked.

"Well...that was strange."

"Yes. Now...what exactly were you anticipating that required nothing but robes?" asked Hermione, smiling seductively.

Harry grabbed her and pulled her into a fierce kiss, answering her question.

"Oh..." she said distractedly as they pulled apart. "that."

"Yeah. That." Harry replied as he apparated them away to finally get his 'pie'.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** 'Sup everybody. Here we go...another rant. I've recently discovered a liking of Incarcerated!Harry fics. And while they've all been good...I haven't seen, in the ones I've read that is, one where Harry Gives the 'court' a piece of his mind before he's hauled off. Now, I'm not saying it hasn't been done...I just haven't seen it. So...I thought I'd do one myself.

Harry Potter sat, chained, in his seat before the fully gathered Wizengamot. He just couldn't believe that he was here. Then again, it wasn't the first time that the wizarding world had royally fucked him over. This was definitely a new low for the corrupt little shit-heads.

'I mean, come the fuck on! Prosecuting me for Dumbledore's death? They've really lost the pathetic little lumps they call minds.'

He looked up at the glowering faces of Rufus Scrimgeour, Delores Umbridge, Percy Weasley, and Luscious Malfoy! He still couldn't understand why that convicted death eater was on the wizengamot.

"Harry Potter..." started the minister of magic, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face. "You stand accused of the murder of the previous supreme mugwump of the wizengamot, Albus Dumbledore. How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." came the stoic reply.

Still smiling, Scrimgeour summoned the first witness, who happened to be Draco Malfoy. The fucking ferret proceeded to expertly weave a tapestry of complete and utter bull-shit. He preached of Harry's irritation with the old headmaster by the end of his fifth year. He told of the obvious strain between him and his best friend, Hermione Granger, throughout his sixth year and how he seemed to be constantly angry. Harry sat, seething, as the death munchlet spewed falsities and misconceptions that were happily swallowed up by the corrupt 'court'.

After Draco came Severus fucking Snape. Harry was forced to sit and watch as the true murderer droned on and on about Harry's lack of respect and rule-breaking habit. Crap flowed from his mouth like grease flowed from his hair for the next twenty minutes as he listed every possible misconstrued fact about Harry that could be used against him.

The final witnesses were the ones that hurt the most. Ronald and Ginny Weasley took the stand. Harry felt tears flow from his eyes as his supposed 'best mate' and the girl he thought he loved sold his ass to Azkaban. Everything from his 'glory-seeking' to his 'false nobility' was thrown at him as he got angrier and angrier.

There were no witnesses for his defense. Hermione, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Fred and George Weasley. None of them were allowed into the courtroom on idiotic charges of 'conflicting interests'. The wizarding world was truly on a roll this time as Harry looked on at the ravenous reporters, aching to get the story out first.

"Harry Potter. You have heard the testimonies against you. Would care to offer a defense before this court renders its judgment?"

"None that would really matter." Harry said in a monotone that hardly masked his anger at this farce.

"Very well. In the face of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, this court hereby finds you guilty. You are sentenced to life in Azkaban without parole. Do you have any final words before your sentence is carried out."

"Yeah...I got some words for ya. But, seeing as you have my wand and about twenty others trained on me, why don't you let me up so I can properly see everyone?"

"I don't see why not." Scrimgeour said, still smiling smugly as he gestured to one of the guards to release Harry's shackles.

"Thank you." he mumbled, rubbing his wrists as he stood. "Now...as I was saying. I got some words for ya. How about fuck you?" The crowd gasped in surprise as the boy-who-lived's vile language washed over them. "I can't believe you miserable pieces of shit. For six years...SIX YEARS...I've been privy to the British Wizarding world's 'hospitality'. When I first arrived, I was a hero. 'The savior of the wizarding world'. 'The Boy-who-lived'. 'The chosen one'. I've heard them all. Here I was, a lonely little boy who didn't know a damn thing about this world. A lonely little boy who just wanted some friends to call his own. A lonely little boy who all of you incompetent jackasses felt needed to be put up on this giant pedestal and then claimed as arrogant and egotistical.

I stopped Voldemort's... toughen up you fucking pansies, its just a name...return twice since I've entered the magical world. The first was when I was eleven...ELEVEN! Then again one year later. I've saved countless lives over and over again, never asking more than to be left the fuck alone. I lose one of the only remaining links to my parents, my fucking godfather, last year just to be told that same night that I am the only one that can defeat the snake-faced bastard. Think about that, my last possible chance at a happy home until I'm seventeen and any possible chance of a childhood lost in one night.

I do all of this and what do I get in return. You fuckers frame for the murder of a man I considered a grandfather and lock me away in Hell on Earth. Fine! Whatever! Just know that, when the day comes that you pathetic sheep realize that you need me, you'll get the same two words that I gave you today."

His monologue finished, Harry allowed the aurors to escort him from the courtroom. Passing his only real friends in the hall, a nod was shared between him and Hermione Granger. A multitude of sharp cracks filled the area as a deep, inky darkness flooded the hall. When all was clear, Harry and his friends were nowhere to be seen.

--oo002 years later00oo--

Sighing contentedly, Harry potter stretched out by his wife in a hammock overlooking the pristine Pamlico River. They'd bought this little property a year ago thanks to his wife's foresight to transfer all of their money to the North Carolinian branch of Gringotts. The goblins were monumentally helpful in their escape and transfer to the quiet little island home purchased in Beaufort County. The last they'd heard, their little banker friends had withdrawn from British society as Voldemort gained control and, along with just about every other magical creature in Britain, moved to...more peaceful lands.

The summer breeze, cooled by the beautiful river, gently blew his wife's bushy brunette hair under his nose. He inhaled the scent of chocolate and old parchment and wrapped his hands around her slim waist. He was glad that they'd managed to convince her family to leave the war-torn isles. Now that they were all legal Americans, thanks in no small part to the goblins, there was not many worries. Thanks to Harry's vast holdings in world wide companies and good investments made by Gringotts, they were set for many generations to come.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"Have you read any of the recent news from Britain?"

"Can't say that I have. Why?"

"Well, it seems that Voldemort's forces tried to invade the muggle world the other day."

"Really? What Happened?"

"Every single one of the 'terrorist' party was killed on site."

"That'll show ol' Tommy-boy to keep his sights low. Muggles don't play that shit."

"Hmmm...do you ever regret leaving?"

"Well, I can't say it doesn't cross my mind. I'm pretty sure that mum, dad, and Dumbledore wouldn't be too happy with me. But at the same time, I honestly don't care that much. I mean...I've got you, your family, the rest of the Weasley's, Hedwig, Tonks and Remus, Neville and his grandmum. I'm finally happy."

"What do you think Sirius would say?"

"Heh...he's probably still laughing his arse off. He always told me that I needed to do for me for a change. I know he's proud of you too. I mean...using a horde of house elves and some Peruvian instant-darkness powder to help me escape from the ministry? That's bloody genius."

The resulting laughter was interrupted as Dobby appeared before them.

"Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is coming to tells you that three people are coming up the walk."

"Thanks Dobby. Engage the wards and show 'em back here, please."

Nodding, the house elf disappeared with a sharp crack. Seconds later, they felt the wards flaring up as a group of three robed people, led by Winky, came around the side of the house. Harry couldn't help but chuckle darkly as he saw ex-minister of magic Rufus Scrimgeour, Ronald Weasley, and Ginny Malfoy (nee Weasley).

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" asked Harry as Ron's jaw dropped and his ears reddened in anger.

"Hermione! Get away from him and come here this instant!"

"And why, Ronald, would I leave my husband's side to stand by yours?" Hermione asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Husband?!" demanded Ron. "What do you mean husband?!"

"Ahem..." interrupted Scrimgeour before Ron could really get going. "Mr. And Mrs. Potter. We have come here seeking your assistance. The war against you-know-who..."

"Who?" asked Harry.

"You know damn well who, Potter! He-who-must-not-be-named!" yelled Ron.

"Sorry. Haven't the foggiest who your talking about."

"They mean V-v-voldemort, Harry." interjected Ginny quietly.

"Ah! That guy. How's ol' slither-sucker doing in his old age?"

"Well, that is what we are here for. You-know-who has all but conquered the British Wizarding world. We need your help to defeat him."

"You see..." began Harry, casually glancing at Hermione. "I knew that they'd show up one day begging for help. Okay...Lets try this. How about the three of you get on your knees and grovel a bit."

To the Potters' surprise, their three visitors actually dropped to their knees and began to spew apology after compliment after guilt trip for the next two minutes. When they were finally finished, They rose to see Harry wiping an invisible tear from his eye.

"T-that was b-beautiful, man. I'm so touched I can hardly remember what I was going to say to you. What were those words?" he faded away as he tried to 'remember'. The visitors were kept on the edge of their seats until Hermione leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

"Oh yeah! Thanks love. Those words that I said all those years ago...the ones that I told you people that would be your reply the day you came begging for my help. They were...Fuck you."

Rufus, Ron, and Ginny's jaws dropped at the rejection of their savior. They could not believe that the noble Harry Potter would refuse to help those in need.

"How can you do this Harry?" demanded Ginny, tears streaming from her eyes. "How can you abandon all those innocent people? How can you be so cold?"

"You mean the same people that abandoned my ass again and again and again? I believe the proper question would be how stupid would I have to be to return. Return just so I can save them, possibly dieing in the process, only to be shunned as a dark wizard and a murderer afterward. Because all of us know damn well that whatever government body that would be set up would see me as a threat to their power and try to lock my ass away for the third time. No...I got fucked up the ass too many times. You morons are on your own."

"Hermione! How can you let him say all of this? How can you let him sit there while others, possibly your family, are dieing?"

At that exact moment, two older people walked around the edge of the house. It was obvious that these were Hermione's parents. Her face was livid as she looked down on the three intruders.

"That was an incredibly underhanded move, Ronald. However..." she stated, brightening instantly. "as you can see, my family is here with us. Neither of us have any ties left in Britain. Hell, even the rest of your family lives in this country now. You made your own shit-drenched beds, and now you have to lay in them."

Sighing dejectedly, the three pulled their wands and aimed them at the Potters and the Grangers. They were met, however, with four .45 magnums pointed at their noses, each held by one of the quartet.

"Do you really think those muggle toys can beat magic?" asked Ron cockily.

"Yeah, we do." replied Harry, equally as cocky. "Especially since there are wards set up that prevent any hostile action, be they magic or muggle, from being taken against any of our family and friends. Which doesn't..." The hammer was pulled back on his pistol. "include you. Handy thing being married to the smartest witch of her generation and being the surrogate little brother to a Gringott's ward breaker, itn't it?" The trademark drawling accent of the area worked its way into Harry's statement, adding a bit of extra intimidation to the message it sent.

"Now, why don't you three just get on back to your country and stay the fuck away from me and mine?"

The Potters and Grangers watched as their visitors were led back around the house by Winky and Dobby, being chastised for agitating their masters, relieved that none had had to die.

"Well that was fun." drawled Dan Granger, looking to his son-in-law. "do we need to expect any more tense visits?"

"Nah, I'll take care of it tomorrow, Dan."

--oo00The next day00oo--

Hermione Potter was just sitting down to her morning cup of coffee when a brown barn owl swooped into the kitchen. Casually paying the messenger, she removed the attached news paper and unrolled it to see the front page head line.

**Boy-who-abandoned?**

_**By Rita Skeeter**_

**Early this morning, this reporter received a letter from Harry Potter . The disturbing message is included below.**

_**Dear British Wizarding world, **_

_**Yesterday, I and my wife were visited by three members of your society. They were here to convince me to return and defeat Lord Vodemort. Well, I mentioned my final statement from my 'trial' two years ago. Fuck You. I tried to help you people. I tried to be the hero you so desperately wanted. All I got was repetitively Crucified by the papers and the ministry. In fact, Ex-minister Scrimgeour took the word of two CONVICTED death eaters over mine and tried to send me to Azkaban for killing the closest thing to a grandfather I'd ever had. Well...I'm done with you people. All I could ever want is here with me. I have a beautiful wife, a loving family, and loyal friends. I have no sympathy for you pathetic sheeple. If any of you had half a fucking brain, you would've left the country right after I did. Oh well. As for Voldemort...I know you'll get this message somehow...here's a deal. You stay the fuck away from me and mine, and I'll return the favor. I don't owe these people shit, so have fun. I'm tired of dealing with you. However, I will end whoever you send after me if you decide to. I just want to be left alone.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**The Boy-who-don't-give-a-sugar-frosted-fuck**_

Hermione smiled as she felt the strong arms of her husband wrap around her shoulders. She turned her head to give him a passionate kiss, which invariably led to abandoning the paper and the kitchen for a more...private venue.

**A/N2:** And there we go. Now...I really don't want to ge a lot of 'Why didn't he/she do this/that?' or 'this story is OOC!' this was just to get some frustration at the general lack of fortitude that Harry is given in these types of stories. All for fun:)


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Beware...for your head may explode from the sheer epic.**

The lone figure stared impassively out at the amassed army. His eyes slid over the ranks upon ranks of darkness. Werewolves howled, mouths drenched in feral saliva as their gazes burned with a rabid hunger. The almost translucent complexes of vampires seemed to glow in the moonlight, their fangs glistening ominously as they eyed their prey. Five giants towered over their comrades, mighty clubs resting on massive shoulders. A horde of mountain trolls stood tall, faces blank and mouths drooling. Men, draped in black cloaks and impassive white skull masks, chuckled sadistically as they gazed upon the single opposition.

And at the head of this vicious army stood the dark lord himself. His red eyes shone with glee at his enemy's solitude. Slitted nostrils flared and sickly pale skin crinkled as the inhumanly thin lips curled into a mocking smirk. A frail hand lifted the most feared wand in Britain, bringing the tip to a pale throat.

"Harry Potter..." the magically enhanced voice boomed across the empty field, washing over the lone man like a wave of blood-curdling hate. "It seems as though your precious light has abandoned you. It would usually be now when I would offer to let you join my ranks, but I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort is not in a giving mood. Know, Harry Potter, that today is the last that you will walk this earth. Today is the day that Harry Potter will finally fall at the dark lord's feet. You will die today, Harry. I promise you this."

The single defender did not reply. Instead, he reached across his waist and gripped two handles. Slowly, and with the drawn out sound of metal pulled from metal, two objects were removed from his belt. In one hand rested the brother of the evil wand, the symbol for hope amongst the darkness. Energy built within its wooden confines as the warrior readied himself. The symbol of the most courageous of the Hogwarts founders, the gleaming blade of Godric Gryffindor, was brandished in his other hand. Its ruby-encrusted hilt shone with immense power as the silver blade seemed to stare down the opposing army with a glint that radiated blood-lust. This was a weapon of war, and this confrontation was what it desired.

Startling green eyes, burning with the fire of an impending battle, once again glanced over the countless foes. His hands tightened on his wand and sword, as if to tell them that the time had come.

With a roar that tore the very heavens asunder, the single warrior and the dark army charged. There was no mighty clash of opposing forces. Instead, screams of agony flooded the field, only to be drown out by the shouts of spells and battle cries. Silver flashed hither and yon, accompanied by great gouts of blood and soaring extremities. Thunderous crashes shook the ground as great bodies fess and dense smoke rose to shroud this slaughter, this...this gruesome ballet of flesh, light, and steel.

Finally, silence reigned as the smoke fell. A late arrival bore witness to the truly epic site that was revealed. Bodies lay strewn across the blood-drenched turf. Mutilated forms stared into the void as their souls were carried off to their final judgment. Giants. Trolls. Werewolves. Vampires. Humans. None were spared as the curtain of death blanketed the once pristine field.

And at the center of it all stood one man. The great silver sword dyed ruby red from the blood of its fallen enemies. The wand, smoking from the sheer amount of energy that was forced through it. At he feet, piled, were the necrotized bodies of several men, topped with another visage.

Atop the pile of his minions lay the dark lord. Masticated...humiliated...eviscerated...his once smug, snake-like face was like so much ground beef, oozing stagnant black blood the drenched the already bloody robes of his followers.

A head of bushy, brunette hair bobbed through the carnage as she approached the victor. Seeing the champion, she stopped with a deep gasp. His hair was matted down with the dried blood of him and his enemies. His robes were all tatters, revealing the long gashes that adorned his chest. Small spasms ran across his muscles, remnants of countless torture curses. His eyes glowed with dwindling adrenaline as he pierced the body laying at his feet with a cold gaze.

"H-harry?" asked the woman, tears streaming from her eyes. Tears of sorrow for the fight that her friend and lover had been forced to fight alone. "H-how? How is it possible that you alone could defeat this army. How were you able to win?"

Looking into her deep brown eyes, the victor raised one foot and placed it on the pile of bodies before him. He gently tugged his tattered pants leg up to reveal the blood-soaked shoe beneath. The once vibrant check was dulled with grime.

"Just do it."

**A/N: **Available at your local shoe store. Buy many!


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Here's another possible future story idea. At the moment, as illustrated by the title, There is no idea for a name.

?

Destroyed. His home was destroyed. Countless eons of existence, of bringing peace and order to the universe had ended. His brothers gave their lives in a desperate final act, leaving him alone. Alone to attempt to complete his mission. Alone to deliver this gift...this weapon to one worthy enough to wield its strength.

"What do we do now?" The question, asked by one who usually oozed confidence, shook with the fear of the unknown. The massive warrior, clad in a black and green body suit, looked up at the tiny hovering form of his leader. The small blue man looked into the face that had sent many enemies fleeing in abject horror.

"Now, Kilowog, we must follow the ring to its chosen recipient."

Ganthet of Oa looked to his palm,upon which rested a large green ring. It glowed faintly with the ambient power of his deceased fellow guardians, their sacrifice providing it with energy all its own. His mind flashed over the recent events. How Hal Jordan, the greatest of the corps, had fallen so far. How, in a fit of rage and grief, he stormed across the cosmos. How so many of his comrades had been obliterated at his hands. How the guardians themselves had let their own hubris destroy them.

Kilowog stood stoically, watching the final Oan guardian ponder over the very subject that he himself reviewed. He, like so many of the others, had stood opposed to the rabid Hal Jordan. He'd fought the way that he always did, viciously and with all of his considerable strength. Unfortunately, it had all been for naught. He would have perished along side his brethren had it not been for Ganthet.

"I ain't happy that you pulled me from the battle, Ganthet."

"I understand, Kilowog, but you will be needed to train whoever is chosen."

The massive, pink-skinned warrior merely grunted in reply as the Oan sent a small charge into the ring. It gently floated from his azure skin, revolving as it searched for the being to wield it. Suddenly, with a vivid emerald flash, the ring vanished towards its destination.

"Very well. Come, Kilowog, we must prepare for our journey."

**--oo0000oo--**

The warm summer air washed over Harry Potter as he climbed onto the roof of number twelve Grimmauld place. He'd just returned from the ministry of magic and his trail. He was glad that the sham of a proceeding had worked out in his favor. To think that he'd almost been expelled from Hogwarts for defending himself. Really, what was he supposed to do when faced with Dementors whose goal was to devour the souls of him and his cousin.

"Harry?" The dulcet tones of his best friend originated from his bedroom window. He was still grateful that his Godfather, Sirius Black, had put his foot down. Molly Weasley had tried to put him in the same room as her son. Not that the idea appalled him, considering Ron was his friend, but he needed a break from the God awful snores after an entire school year of sharing a dorm. Now, he had the room to himself and was enjoying it the most he could.

"Out here, Hermione."

A head of bushy brunette hair stuck itself out of his window and looked up. He waved from the slope of the rough shingles and beckoned to her. Sighing, Hermione Granger shimmied out and up to sit beside him.

"Don't you know that it is dangerous to sit on a roof?"

"Probably, but I needed some fresh air. The tension in that house was driving me crazy. You'd think that Ron'd be happy that I wasn't expelled, but he just keeps glaring at me."

"I noticed. What is his problem? Ginny too, though **I** seem to the the target for her irritation."

The two friends fell into a comfortable silence as the stars twinkled above them. Harry leaned back against the slope of the roof as he pondered his life. Unconsciously, Hermione lay back as well, her head resting on his out-stretched arm.

"Do you think we can win this war?" she asked after a few silent minutes, still looking up at the stars and noticing an oddly green-tinted streak of light.

"I don't know, 'Mione." he replied, easily letting the nickname slip. "We'll need a bloody miracle at this rate."

The green light suddenly switched trajectories. Hermione watched curiously as it seemed to aim directly at them.

"Er...Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you notice that green light?"

Harry glanced up just in time to see a great flash of emerald light shoot directly at them. Instinctively, he rolled over to cover Hermione and waited for the imminent impact.

"Harry Potter?" stated a crisp voice from above him. Slowly he raised his head to see an ornate green ring hovering just two feet above the roof line. Where a jewel would usually rest, what seemed like a vague rendition of an old-time lantern glowed with power.

"Harry Potter." the ring stated again in the same crisp monotone.

"Yeah?"

"Harry Potter. You have been chosen to overcome great fear. You have been chosen to wield the surviving power ring of the Green Lantern Corps."

**A/N: **If anyone has an idea for a title, drop me a line.


	8. Chapter 8

**Ironic Justice**

I died.

Its as simple as that. I could go on about how I survived through sixteen years of constant war and death threats, just to die at the hands of my 'best' friend. But I won't. I could whine about how the love of my life bled out in my arms before the cold steel of that bastard's knife slid into my heart. But I won't.

I will, however, think of **her**. Hermione. My real best friend. My girlfriend. My lover. My fiancée. The future mother of our children. My last image. She was with me all throughout school. Supporting me. Nagging me to get my homework done, heh. Standing strong and proud at my side through it all. If not for her, I never would have survived as long as I had.

It wasn't until the summer after my disastrous fifth year that I realized her true importance in my life. Cliché? Maybe, but I knew that I loved her. And I told her that the next time I saw her. No preamble. No secretive 'I'll see if she could feel the same way about me before I tell her' bull. No, just a straight confession. That's not to say I wasn't nervous, however. Bloody hell, I almost shit my pants waiting for her reply. When she returned my feelings, I felt as though I could accomplish anything.

That was a wonderful year, even if that piece of shite was angry at us for getting together. It didn't matter. We were in love, and that was that. The second night at school, we were sharing a bed provided by the RoR. The third week, she was wearing my mother's old engagement ring.

Then it all went to shite. The dark lord attacked Hogsmeade one Saturday. We fought off death eaters for a good hours before Voldemort himself appeared. During our duel, I heard her cry out.

There she was. Lying in the street, her blood pouring out of her slit throat. Over her stood that son of a bitch, his knife coated ruby-red in from her flesh. I wasn't even close to caring about anything else as I ran to her and pulled her body into my arms.

The last thing I heard was that sadistic laughter before the traitor stabbed me.

You'd think it'd be over then, right? Not for me. I was heading into the light. I could see her standing at those golden gates, her arms wide and her smile beautiful. Finally, I would know peace...

Until** he** appeared. Impossibly large, his green cloak billowing in the non existent wind. His glowing green eyes seemed to bore into my soul as he told me that my time had not yet come. He told me that I still had a mission to complete before I would have what I so wanted. I caught a final glimpse of my love before I was dragged, kicking and screaming, back to Earth.

So yeah...I died. But that wasn't enough for fate. No. I'm cursed to walk this earth until my mission is complete. Known by no one, yet everyone. Nowhere, yet everywhere. Able to see every single bloody sin committed on the planet at any given time. He's here as well, telling me of my purpose. Saying that it falls to me to cleanse God's earth of those that would misuse the gift of life. To punish those that would harm the innocent. I walk this earth delivering justice to the guilty. Doomed to wait until I earn the right to see her again.

**--oo00IJ00oo--**

Ronald Wealsey was living the good life under the dark lord's reign. Sure, he could do with a bit less of the torture. And the mark itched like a sunnuva bitch. But, all in all, life was good. His betrayal and murder of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had cemented his place among the ranks. As the dark lord conquered England, he was able to enjoy more and more of the perks.

Sure, he felt bad that Hermione had had to die, but it was her fault for siding with Potter. He'd given the little know-it-all a chance to come to him, but she'd made her choice.

"Ronald Billius Weasley." The voice boomed from seemingly everywhere. Then, building from a pillar of smoke and fire, a man appeared before him. Clad in an emerald green cloak, the man radiated an other worldly power. Upon closer inspection, Ron was able to recognize the gray face shrouded in the shadow of the cloak's hood.

"H-harry?"

"Ronald Weasley. You have taken the lives of the innocent. You have shed their blood without provocation. You have betrayed those who loved you. Face the punishment.

Ron's scream of terror at the sight of a three-foot long blade appearing from nowhere turned to cries of agony as it pierced his flesh.

**--oo00IJ00oo--**

This is the third 'punishment' I've delivered. The spirit has a very, sick sense of irony that he displays on these people. The knife slowly slices form Ron's groin through the top of his head. Then, it begins to dice him. By all rights, he should have been dead before the chopping really began n earnest. For what he did to me...to us...I keep him alive he's nothing but pieces left.

The spirit tells me that this one is done. There are more who must pay price. This is my task. My mission.

I...am the Specter.


	9. Chapter 9

Its always the same when they first see me. 'Who are you?' They just don't understand. They don't understand what I'm here to do. They don't understand my purpose.

'Who are you?'

Of course, it was the same before. After the end. After it was all over. They just kept coming.

'What are you going to do now?'

'Where will you go?'

'Will you help rebuild?'

'Who are you with?'

'Who are you now?'

That's the rub. Thats the question that got me thinking. Who am I? I know who I was before. I was the hero. The savior. The warrior of the light. Harry Potter: The boy-who-lived. The nemesis of the dark lord. The yin to Voldemort's yang. The opposite side of the coin.

But what happens to the yin without the yang? What happens to order without chaos? How can there be light without darkness?

That's when it hit me. That's when I realized the truth of it all. There is no yin without yang, no light without dark. I fought to end the darkness, but I was wrong. There is no end. There is no beginning. Its a cycle. A revolution of events that never ceases.

So I decided to be the chaos. To be honest, its exhilarating. After years of revulsion. After countless betrayals, I'm on the other side. The look on their faces was priceless. Their savior was now their undoing. Like Midas' touch, their golden-boy had proved tarnished. I gave them what they wanted. But now...Now, I'm taking it back.

But I'm not alone. Oh no. **She** is here as well. By my side throughout it all. She told me once. She said that it was inevitable. No human could face all that I've faced and not rebel. The problem with living your entire life as a target? Eventually, the hunted becomes the hunter.

They'll pay for all of their misdeeds. They'll suffer. They'll writhe in agony at my feet. Through ragged throats, they'll scream 'Forgive us!'.

On that day...the day when they finally break, I'll smile warmly and whisper 'No'.

She asks me, my little chocolate-haired goddess. She asks at times 'What are we doing?'.

I tell her that **that** is not the question.

She asks me 'Why, then?'.

I smile lovingly and shake my head. I'm able to see that magnificent brain of hers working. Finally, just like always in this discussion, she gives up.

'What's the question, then?'

Ah...so close. 'Its very simple...' I always say.

"Why not?"


	10. Chapter 10

It was a pathetic sight within the smallest bedroom of #4 Privet drive. The young man curled up in a ratty excuse of a bed could pull at even the coldest heartstrings. Harry Potter was miserable. It was just a week after the death of his classmate, Cedric Diggory, and he was drowning in guilt.

"Why? It should have been me. There was no reason to kill him."

The return of Voldemort paled in comparison to the death of an innocent. A death the had come to pass because of his own bloody nobility. If he'd just taken that thrice-damned cup, instead of insisting on a joint Hogwarts victory, the Cedric would still be alive and with his family. Harry'd known that someone was out for his blood. If he'd just used his head...

Fresh tears streamed from broken emerald eyes as another wave of regret encompassed his aching heart, sobs wracking his scrawny body.

No sleep would come tonight. Of that, he knew. It would be the same as every night since the third task. He'd cry into the early morning until his body finally shut down for a few hours.

He never noticed the glow that encompassed him. Never noticed the wind that whipped through his room. All he knew was the darkness as his mind slipped away.

----oo00HP00oo----

_The swirling black seemed to embrace him as he became aware. Sight was impossible. There was nothing to see. All he could do was float in the void of nothingness._

"_What the fuck is this?" The voice seemed to come from everywhere. A growling, raspy baritone that held its share of pain._

"_Who are you?"_

"_I could ask you the same thing."_

"_Harry Potter. What is this place?"  
_

"_You got me. How old are you kid?"_

"_Fourteen, almost fifteen."_

"_Hmm..."_

"_How did we get here?"_

"_No idea, kid. I remember Arctic terrain before...nothing. Pretty sure I was supposed to die, though."_

_That brought flashes of memory to the forefront. Images of a graveyard and a large, bubbling cauldron. Images of some kind of blue humanoid glowing with an otherworldly light. Images of a bushy-haired brunette with an impossibly beautiful smile. Images of the charred and mutilated remains of a little girl._

_All of these and more played before them. All of these and more were shared by both consciousness. In a span of time that could have been anywhere from two seconds to thirty years, the pair learned every fact about each other._

"_Damn, kid. And I thought my life was twisted."_

"_What happens now?"_

"_Not sure, but I have a theory."_

"_What?"_

_Before the older entity could reply, a bright light flooded the void._

----oo00HP00oo----

It was a strange sight within the smallest bedroom of #4 Privet drive. The young man that rose from the ratty excuse of a bed could send a chill of fear down the strongest spine. Harry Potter was pissed. Just a week after the death of his classmate, Cedric Diggory, and he was ready to kick some ass.

Looking around his room, he spotted an old cloth sack that had once held his cousin's collection of rare glass marbles. That phase had been one of the shortest in Dudley's not-so-long life. Harry remembered how the tub of arrogant lard had thrown every one of the little spheres in the trash after his first game.

Smiling crookedly, he picked up the bag. In a show of what some might call stupidity, he slipped the material over his head. Turning, the freshly hooded strode to his spindly little desk.

He pulled one of the rolls of parchment he kept handy for letters in front of himself. Inking his quill, he spared one glance at the small mirror that hung above the desk. A smile spread under the sack as a series of black, inky splotches appeared on the fabric and began flowing from image to image in a creepy synchronization. Still smiling, he bent over the parchment.

_Rorschach's journal _

_June 31, 1995_


End file.
